Confession
by ssavaged
Summary: Three months after graduating, Ginny arrives at St. Mungos. During an interview, a psychiatrist unveils Ginny's past year with Draco: from their first kiss to her final words to him: Avada Kedevra. [SERIES]
1. Confession

_Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. All credit goes to J.K. Rowling._

_First Series!_

_Draco/Ginny_

"State your name, please."

"Ginny Weasley."

"Into the microphone, please. And your full name this time."

Lifting my head solumnly from my numb arms, I glance over at the impatient woman before me. Bright, cheap lipstick is smeared on her front teeth. She's twirling a scrawny finger, nail lacquered in a fierce red matching her lipstick, in her messy brown locks. Is this what I am to become? Her eyelids are heavy with boredom as she sighs indignantly. The woman looks to be no younger than her late thirties, and I wonder if she's ever had anyone to love. Her white blouse is wrinkled and I doubt, even without glancing, that her black skirt is any better off. She reeks of longing and I of pain. We aren't too different, she and I.

"Ginevra Molly Weasley."

"And your confession?"

"I killed Draco Malfoy."

Cocking her head to the side, we meet eye to eye. "That wasn't too hard, now, was it?"

I feel a sudden rush in my head as two large men stand me up and take me by the arms. My knees are weak and my muscles tighten. I've been sitting in this room far too long. Shooting a look around the room, I notice it doesn't differ much from mine. The same dull, dreary gray color defines my walls as well, five steel bars securing the small window. The silver table I rise from looks like a masterpiece compared to the rest.

As they lead me back to my own room, my eyes stay glued to the floor in sorrow. I take no interest in studying each passerby with eyes of distraction and "what if". Half of them are insane, the rest severely dangerous and highly medicated. I am sure that this is the path I am walking down now. Today, I give my confession. My reasons, my story. Tomorrow is the trial. The planning of my execution: the Dementors' Kiss.

The door shuts behind me with a loud slam, followed by the securing of an extra bolt. Sighing, I brush a bit of dust off my white capris. The matching pullover is also a requirement in this place. As if sharing the same limited space with these whack-jobs isn't enough, matching outfits with them just finishes it off.

St. Mungos is more disturbing than I've ever imagined.

About an hour has gone by, and I remain on my bed, hugging my knees to my chest. I wonder why they even bothered to put me in this place. I'm a criminal and I deserve to go Azkaban, and just because I went into a bit of a shock, they lock me up here. All I can think about is him and how I'd much rather be dead than sitting here wondering what if I'd never fallen in love with him. Of course I don't regret falling in love with him; I just regret not putting an end to it sooner.

I hear the door open and I don't even turn to look. That's something that happens to you once you're locked up: all instincts are thrown out the window. You suddenly don't care that unforgivable curses are being thrown your way; you just want to get it over with. Wiping a strand of hair from my cheek, the sound of a chair's moving screech sends shivers down my spine. I continue to glance up at the gray morning through a cold window.

"I'd like you to start at the beginning, Ms. Weasley." His voice is calm and patient, something I'd sorely missed the entire time I've been here.

Silent.

"This may take some time, but opening this wound and finding a closure may help your healing process." He continued on, my silence not even phazing him.

I turn slowly to face him and I come to find that he's younger than I expected. Mid twenties, perhaps. He's very decent looking; thick, dark brown hair slicked back, leaving his mysterious blue eyes open and vulnerable. His lips are rosy and welcoming. He reminds me of him and that frightens me terribly.

"Why do you care about my healing process? I'm going to die soon." I close my eyes and turn my head back to rest against the wall.

"Although you killed Draco Malfoy," I flinch at his name. "I don't believe you are a killer."

"And why's that?" I don't even want to try and hide my feelings anymore. I'm angry, so I'm going to snap whether this man likes it or not.

He sits there calmly, as though trying to read through me. And who knows? He probably can. "Malfoy is responsible for your family's death. Yet you loved--or love--him. I'm not sensing any direct hostility towards this particular Death Eater, however I am concerned as to why you would help Malfoy, the man who betrayed you and killed your family, with an assignment given to him by the Dark Lord."

He stops as though he wants me to respond, but I shake my head in anger. There are so many feelings I have towards the past, yet I can't bring them out into words. "I love him, there is no past tense." I whisper at last.

"Please, tell me, when did this begin?"

center - - - - - /center

"God Malfoy, you're a piece of work."

"Stop talking to me, Weasley."

"I'm your fucking tutor. I believe that requires some sort of interaction between the two of us." I was well out of my stage of innocence so the use of profanity hardly phazed me.

"Weasley, I'm almost done, so if you'd shut the hell up for five seconds, I could give this test to you soon."

I shut my mouth and looked down at my own copy of Malfoy's test, running through the answers quickly before he hastily shoved his finished practice paper before me. After looking over it for a brief minute, I met him eye to eye, not surprised by his results.

"You passed."

He only sneered, something that truly bothered me.

"A grunt of acknowledgement might be nice."

"What do you want from me?" He sighed, impatiently.

"How about a thanks? After all this work I've done even though you didn't need it." I clenched my fists, truly aggrevated after spending a month with him.

"Thanks for nothing, Weasley."

"Jesus, last time I do anyone any bloody favors."

He sneered again, playing with his tie nonchalantly. "Oh, you and I both know it won't be."

"Fuck you, Malfoy."

"No pun intended?"

I groaned, standing quickly before gathering my materials in my arms and walking away. All I heard from behind me was a bit of muttering with my last name inserted somewhere in the mix, give or take a profanity.

I was well outside of the library by the time he grabbed hold of my robes and spun me around. The malicious look in his cold, grey eyes was always so terrifying, as if there wasn't anything he couldn't do, yet it was definately mysterious and sexy as hell. I couldn't imagine any girl not finding Malfoy attractive.

"Leave me alone," I groaned, trying my hardest to turn away. His strength far surpassed mine.

"Don't walk out on me." His firm grip on my arm tightened and I winced in pain.

I laughed coldly. "Must have been a bad month for you, Malfoy. You're pathetic enough to try and fuck me when you and I both know that I am the last person right now that you would want to fuck. Unless your women are on some sort of strike and you're missing out."

He drew back his other hand as if to strike me, but I knew he wouldn't dare. My relationship with Malfoy was an odd one, but he'd never resorted to hitting me. I didn't know if he'd hit other girls, but there was always something that stopped him whenever he tried to hit me. Dropping his hand, he instantly reached out for my neck as we met in a kiss. I couldn't deny that I was longing for his touch. There was always a hunger in our kisses, a need, as if we were a romantic couple meeting once again after a long separation. It was always too bad that this was the furthest thing from love. It was lust.

center - - - - - /center

"So I'm assuming that wasn't your first kiss?"

After a slight pause, I respond. "God, no."

I feel his eyes lock onto me as he presses on. "How long had you guys been.."

"..Fucking?" I interject. He seems lost for words.

"Yeah."

"About four months." I close my eyes and breathe softly, and remember the great moments we shared.

"So you're eighteen now, right Ginny?"

I nodd slowly, biting my lip as another flashback wanders into my mind.

"So you and Draco Malfoy would have been dating how long as of today?"

He seems oblivious to the fact that this bothers me. Isn't this is job? To help soothe people? All he's been doing is digging up deeper wounds. "As of today we would have been together for twenty-seven months."

"And why did you use this past story to describe the beginning to your love of Malfoy?"

Slowly, I look up towards the window again, eyes pressing on through the bars. "That night I realized I needed him. That our relationship was about more than sex. It wasn't necessarily love, but it was somewhere in that realm." Sighing, I tilt my head towards the man.

"And how did this make you feel?"

I hold back a laugh, wondering if this is for real. I turn to face him, eye to eye, my face void of emotion. "What's your name?"

"Mr. Amherst." He replies slowly as I sense the regret in his tone.

"Mr. Amherst, have you loved someone so much that you couldn't breathe?"

He shakes his head slowly.

"Have you ever missed someone so much that your heart ached?"

He shakes it again.

"Have you ever been so satisfied with someone that you couldn't move?"

He shakes his head again as if he's afraid of what I'll say next.

"Have you ever craved someone so much that you couldn't focus, see, or hear?"

He shakes his head once more.

"I have."

_End of Chapter One!_

_Next chapter coming up sooner._

_I promise it'll be more exciting._

_I can't tell you how long this will exactly be, but I'm hoping at least ten chapters._

_REVIEWS ARE LOVELY_


	2. Beginning

Reviewers: Thank you so much for your input. It really means a lot. I just hope I can keep you entertained.

About a half an hour has passed and Amherst returns. He carries an emotionless expression as an obvious sigh escapes from his lips. I have this sudden feeling like he's disappointed from the progress we've been making, or lack thereof.

He takes a second to write something down in his notebook, not even speaking a word. Finally after a few minutes I speak up. "I have to go to the bathroom."

Amherst looks up for a second and nods in acknowledgement, standing and pressing a button at the door. The door opens and two men step in and instantly grab my arms to escort me to the bathroom. They're far from gentle, I note silently.

Shutting the door to the bathroom, I sigh heavily. The door is slick and I feel like sliding down to the floor but my legs refuse to bend. Looking across the tiny room into the mirror, a gasp escapes my mouth.

I've always thought I was pretty. Not a stop-in-your-tracks sort of pretty where people dare to look twice. I was given a natural, original beauty. But now looking in this mirror, all I see is emptiness. My once flowing, maroon red curls are grungy and stringy. My eyes carry a look of fear and hesitation instead of lust and confidence. My lips are pale instead of that rosy full look to which I'd grown a liking to. Who is this girl before me? So pale and frail, I'm like a fictional character in a horrific story.

As I sit back down in my chair after the guards escort me back, I realize how silly this all feels. Why did I have to fall in love? Was it jealousy? Idiocy? Lust? Or regret? Draco Malfoy was the last boy I'd ever consider sleeping with, and now I am another one of his conquests. Except I'm not. Malfoy loved me and no matter how hard I try to deny it, the feeling prevails. It was a forbidden love and that was what kept our fire burning. If it hadn't been for the feeling of it being so wrong, we would have stopped at the beginning.

"So Ms. Weasley," Amherst fixes his eyes on me and I hardly move. "What started this desire for Draco Malfoy?"

- - - - -

It had been nearly three months since Harry broke up with me and I couldn't have felt any worse. I'd been sleeping in later, eating at irregular hours, and speaking to my parents in ways that I never would have imagined doing before. They could sense my aggrevation and pain, yet when they tried to help it only pushed them away further and I just wanted out. Not only would I snap, but I would use violence. If they weren't in hitting distance, I would throw some object at them, screaming bloody murder.

I wanted to feel like I had no one and finally my family came to leave me be.

It was the night before our return to school when I had finally had it. Harry had been visiting for the past week and I'd spent that time locked away in my room. I didn't want to face him. Finally, on that night, when I was just about to fall asleep, I heard a light knock on my door. Grumbling, I rolled over, until I heard that familiar voice calling out, "It's me, Harry. I need to talk to you."

I had my back to the door when he entered. Even though I wanted him to assume I was sleeping, my eyes were wide open, staring at my wall.

"Ginny," I flinched as he spoke so calmly. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm sorry for what happened, but I don't regret it." My eyes swelled up as he said this, but I couldn't find any tears to let fall. "You are like a little sister to me and I didn't want anything to happen that would destroy our relationship forever. Ron is my best friend and I knew that this would be awkward from the start but I gave it a try. It wasn't until after that I realized it couldn't work because of the circumstances." I bit my lip in frustration as he continued. "But I still love you, Ginny. As a sister, not a girlfriend. I just.." He paused and I could've sworn I heard a sniffle. "It wouldn't have worked, that's all."

I heard him stand to leave, but instead his footsteps drew closer and I felt a clammy hand on my bare arm. "Ginny, I.."

"Don't touch me." I whispered coldly, a ball forming in my throat.

He left as if he didn't know what to say and I spent the rest of the night tossing about in fury. I suddenly decided that I hated Harry Potter.

- - - - -

"What made you hurt so bad after he broke up with you? Why didn't you mention it to him before?" Amherst breaks the stiff silence.

I sigh, eyes darting around the room uncomfortably. "I was the happy Ginny Weasley hidden behind kind eyes and a smile that could accidentally break your heart. No one knew of my pain nor even guessed that I possessed any. It was all I knew how to do."

"What corrupted this blowout, then?"

"I realized that all this time I had spent pining for Harry was wasted. He wanted people to believe that it was better this way; that he was protecting me from harm that would be inflicted upon him. He was a hero, or so people saw him to be." My voice grows angrier as I talk, fists clenching. "But now all I see is a coward."

Amherst nods, hand flicking vigorously away at his notepad. I'm tempted to just lash out and snatch it, reading what he's written, but resist the urge.

"So what did this have to do with Malfoy?" I notice how Amherst never uses his full name, as if it's forbidden. That bothers me for some reason.

"Well that night I'd decided that I hated Harry Potter. I wanted to get back at him, not right away, but eventually. Something sparked inside of me that wanted to drive into his very soul and crush it." I smirk, realising how odd I sound at this very moment, then exhale. "It wasn't until the next day at the train station that I realized I would need Draco Malfoy to succeed in this."

- - - - -

"G'bye, Mum!"

That phrase seemed to've been used about ten times by an irritable Ron who was suffocated in loads of hugs and kisses from his blubbering mother. They were soon followed by two different versions of "Thanks again, Mrs. Weasley!" from Harry and Hermione. I scoffed, shifting uncomfortably as I clutched onto my trunk.

Today I had decided to show off the new curves my body could reveal. It seemed like over the past year I'd been developing, but this summer had finished it off for me. Low, tight jeans clung tightly to my hips, shaping my bottom quite nicely as I waited for the trio to get on the train so I could enter alone. Harry had tried to sneak glances at me, I had noticed, and he seemed astonished at how I had changed over the summer. Since he hadn't seen me at all while staying at the Burrow, and only a shadow the night before, I knew that it was a shock. Zipping up my gray jacket slowly, I rolled my eyes and adjusted my navy and white striped tank-top underneath. Muggles, I'd noticed, had far better clothing than witches and wizards. A lot cheaper too.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the trio made their way up onto the train, after shooting me many disturbing glares. Ron seemed to have dubbed me his long lost sister, Hermione's long lost friend, and Harry's long lost ex. This would be a year from hell, but a fun one if my plan pulled through.

Eyes darting around the station, I was soon distracted by an awkward touch on the shoulder from my mother. "Ginny, have a nice year. You're always welcome to write if you want to." My mother always sounded bubbly and welcoming, no matter how hard she tried to sound formal.

"Goodbye, Mrs. Weasley." I call out softly before turning around and making my way towards the Hogwarts Express. My trunk rolled over a slight rut in the pavement which made me stagger, running into none other than Draco Malfoy.

"Watch where you're going, Weasley." He spat cooly, brushing a hand over his robes as if there was dirt on them. If I wasn't so desperate at that point to ruin Harry, I would've punched him and walked away. But I had a goal. "These are new robes."

Looking up at his face, I realized how tall he'd gotten over the summer. It seemed as though he was six feet tall. He towered over me intimidatingly, yet I found it unbelievably attractive.

Breathe, Ginny. Breathe. "What the hell are you doing here? Aren't you supposably working for Voldemort or something?"

He scoffed, looking me up and down. I wondered if he was either surprised at how I'd matured, or amused at how I was dressed. Blonde hair falling into his cold, grey eyes, he retorted. "I was under the imperius curse. Snape's doing. And after going through a trial and a shitload of my mother's meddling, I'm back here. Still on watch, though. I don't think the ministry trusts me too well." He sneered arrogantly.

Rolling my eyes, I let my trunk stand on it's own, hand resting on my hip. "Can you blame them? I mean, Harry saw you in the bathrooms crying about--"

He was quick to cut me off. "And you believe Potter? Didn't he dump you with some worthless excuse like 'Oh, I don't want you to be a victim!'? How typical. And I'm sure you're still fawning over him, the most I could expect from a prostrate Weasley like."

I let him ridicule me, wanting to show emotion but unable to. I wanted to let him know how I felt, wondering if it would make him understand. I wanted to be one of his conquests, one of his women. I wanted to understand how to work for him, how to serve him. I just wanted to know how to please him and to make him accept me. "I hate Harry Potter." I spat out icily, finally saying it out loud. It felt good to get it off my chest.

He stood there, mouth open as a familiar bitchy voice called out, "Draco! What are you doing? Let's go! Why are you even talking to that filth anyways?"

We exchanged quick glances and he turned away, pulling his trunks as he walked to meet his most faithful sex slave: Pansy Parkinson.

"She ran into me like an idiot," I heard him explain as they soon disappeared.

I stood there for a split moment, wondering if Draco's sudden pause had even meant something. But I figured it hadn't, so made my way onto the train solumnly, finding my way to the back of the train and into an empty compartment. After the train had started moving, I figured that I would ride this trip alone.

Halfway through the trainride I had fallen asleep, but I awoke to find Michael Corner, my ex-boyfriend, sitting in front of me, curtains drawn on the windows and across the sliding door. He was watching me closely as I came to, although I wasn't all that sure why he was there. "What do you want?" I whispered, still drowzy. I'm sure that if I wasn't half-asleep I would've screamed, performed some hex, and kicked him out. But I wasn't in the right shape or form.

"You know, Ginny." He replied cooly, eyes looking into mine with a certain plead.

"I thought you would've given up after I hadn't replied to the dozens of letters you sent me, Michael." I retorted impatiently, combing my fingers through my hair quickly, vibrant curls bouncing back in place.

"I figured you were in a rough patch after Potter." He moved across to sit beside me, ignoring my flinch absentmindedly as he took my hand. It felt rough and cold; just what I wasn't in the mood for. His green eyes were fixed on me, but I was determined not to look back at him. He was definately good looking; nearly-black locks hanging in his face in a sexy manner, his eyes hungry and pleading on his nearly-perfect chisled face. If I hadn't been so fed up with him at this very moment and particularly determined to find my way into Malfoy's social ranks, I would've ripped his clothes off right then. "I want you back, Gin."

I rolled my eyes, still refusing to look at him. He cupped my chin with his other hand and pulled my glance toward him, our eyes meeting slowly before I broke away. Corner seemed to be one of the few who had noticed my improvement over the past year, or so I'd thought.

"Stop it, Michael." I sighed, releasing myself from his touch and inching towards the window to my right.

"Why?"

"You know why," I replied sharply, suddenly not in the mood for his meddling. He would only break my heart later on anyways. Michael was flighty, the main thing I remembered about him. It was hard to get him to settle down.

"I love you."

"Stop it, Michael." My voice grew stern and I stood, stepping away from him quickly.

"Didn't you understand my letters? I thought I could break away, but then I realized how much I missed you and--"

"Stop!" I hollered, turning around and opening the sliding door quickly. Ignoring his calls, I made my way to the lavatory, weaving through the few students who were out and about, and the food cart. I was nearly a few steps from the bathroom but was suddenly forced to stop when I heard his voice.

"Crabbe, I've told you plenty of times to leave the matter alone. I'm here and that's all that matters. So just shut the fuck up."

I paused, turning to find him sprawled out across one of the seats, head resting in Parkinson's lap as she stroked his hair gently. His face was turned to face the two baboons he had for friends and I could only imagine what he was talking about.

"Draco, we're just glad you're back, that's all. I thought you were dead for sure. The dementor's kiss and all." Parkinson cut in, her voice annoying me on many levels.

"How the hell to I get it across to you lot? I dont want to talk about it," He groaned in frustration and sprang up suddenly, making his way to the door and sliding it open with a slam I turned to leave but he was quick to see me first.

"What the hell are you doing, Weasley? Haven't your parents taught you the consequences of eavesdropping?" He spat viciously and I turned to face him, but his wand was stuck to my throat as I did so. "What did you hear?"

"Nothing," I gagged, suddenly feeling weaker when looking into his cold, grey eyes. I hated this feeling and wanted more control over my body. It wasn't right that I didn't get a fair shot. Brushing a wisp of hair away from my chocolate eyes, I stand up straighter, suddenly losing all signs of intimidation. Two could play his game.

"You'd better watch yourself, Weasley." His eyes flickered menacingly. "You're already off on a bad start with me."

I met his eyes with the same fierce glare, pushing his wand away from my neck. "Well you'd do well to be nice to me, Malfoy." I sneered. "Remember my father's associated with the Ministry."

He scoffed, and I was suddenly aware of how much he was capable of. "Don't even try to threaten me again. You father is pitiful anyhow."

I didn't even try to defend my father; my own flesh and blood. Instead I watched his eyes travel from my eyes to my nose, lips, neck, breasts, and back to my eyes again. His smirk prevailed as a warm finger grazed my cheek. I wasn't exactly sure of what was happening, but went along with it nonetheless. "Have a nice day, Weasley." He commented coyly before turning around and locking himself in the bathroom.

Grumbling, I went back to my own compartment to find it empty which was quite the relief. I quickly changed into my robes as the faint sight of Hogwarts came into view.

It would be an interesting year after all.

- - - - -

Sorry this wasn't very interesting.

I'm still trying to get into the story before I start on all the chaos.

Next chapter will be much more entertaining.

Reviews are lovely.


	3. Partners

**Reviewers: Thankyou, again. Sorry I haven't updated in a WHILE. I've been incredibly busy. I'll try to be more active now.**

**Chapter Three:**

--------------------

"The next few days were as dull and lonely as hell," I start as soon as Amherst sits down.

He flips the page over on his notepad and pulls out a quill. "And how did you feel?"

"Horrible."

Amherst nods, writing a bit of something down. "So we've been at this for a few days now, correct?"

"Correct."

"..And yet you still haven't told me why you killed him."

I sigh, wondering why he had chosen this profession at all. "My story is longer than you'll believe, Doctor. Can I call you that, _Doctor_?"

"I'd prefer it if you called me Mr. Amherst." He sighs loudly, shaking his head in frustration. I know I've been a pain to him lately, but it only amuses me.

"Fine, Amherst." I continue, sitting up from my horizontal position on my bed. "My story is very long, so if you intend on receiving any answers right away, I would suggest finding a new psychiatrist to take over your postion."

"My dear Ms. Weasley, you do realize this is a complete convenience, on your behalf, that I requested to interview you at all, don't you? Or would you prefer me giving up hope and sending you back to Azkaban where the Dementor's Kiss could be performed at any given moment?" I look up to notice a slight smirk on his handsome features, and I meet his half-smile with my own contorted one.

"Touche, _Doctor_."

"So, instead of arguing, why don't you get on with your story?" He readjusts himself in his seat, preparing himself for another go of my seemingly neverending tale.

"Well, now that you've asked.."

--------------------

As I said, the next few days were as dull and lonely as hell.

I spent most of my time occupied with various books with morbid contexts, although I couldn't very well concentrate. Sure, I should've been studying or focusing on my school work, but my confused mind just wouldn't hear of it.

My fellow friends had seemed to distance themselves from me, although I didn't even need to wonder why. I had spent the last few months in a horrible wallowing stage, and my mood now was no better. Instead of the always-smiling, always-chipper Ginny Weasley, I was now a solemn, shady character whom people avoided. I used to be a great comfort to my close friends, and had the best shoulder to cry on, but now I received no knocks on my door at two in the morning; I had no one beckoning me to help them with their life issues.

I was alone.

Even Malfoy had left me be, although I still pondered profusely about my encounter with him on the train.

A week later, I found another reason to question his actions.

It was in Potions class, the second Monday of our return to Hogwarts. Usually sixth year students didn't have classes with seventh years, but McGonagall, our new Headmistress, conveniently moved me up for this class, completely oblivious to my reluctance once she informed me of what other students would be in this class. For some reason, although she must have known my history and/or family rivalry with this particular student, McGonagall urged me to converse with Malfoy since apparently he could help me along the way if there were any complications. Dumb fool.

I wish I could partially blame McGonagall for this madness.

So, back to the point. We were being assigned new partners, since there had been some confusion due to Neville Longbottom's stupidity - once again - and as Slughorn read down the list of names quickly, I noticed how the majority of students were now seated with their partners and Malfoy and I were left standing, with only two other students. Just my luck, of course.

"Bulstrode, you are with Patil." He pointed with a chubby finger before skimming his eyes back over the list.

Oh. My. God. We are the only ones left.

"Malfoy, you are with Weasley."

No, no, no.

Malfoy shot me a look and I pretended to ignore it, although I gathered my things and made my way to the back of the room. Of course, since we were last, Malfoy and I must share the very last row in the very back of the room. I noticed, after sitting down, he had a smile on his face as he made his way toward me.

"Buck up, Weasley," He turned to face me after slamming his things on the desk. "I could help you do great things."

"Oh, I'm sure of it," I replied, my words dripped with sarcasm. I bet McGonagall is behind this pairing.

"Don't be so against this match." was his only retort, and I wanted to slap him for it.

"Why, aren't _you_?" I snapped, opening my book to page four hundred and eighty-seven, like Slughorn instructed.

"You know, actually," He followed suit, only I noticed that his book was newer than mine and in far better condition. "I'm not."

"Your mistake, then." I barked, copying Slughorn's notes off the chalkboard. If only I had noticed Malfoy sneaking glances at me, I could have realized that this would have been the worst match for completely different reasons than the one I carried, and I could have asked to be assigned a new partner. If only. Those words were far too overused in my life.

--------------------

"So that's how you and Malfoy became associated?" Amherst asks as soon as he realizes I'm finished.

I nod, although zoning out on his chair.

"We actually had a reason for us to be together then," I continue, although not breaking my stare. "Or at least he did."

"Carry on."

--------------------

Over the next few days I felt as though Malfoy was trying to talk to me. Or get through to me, somehow. He'd sent plenty of owls signed by Anonymous, yet I threw each and every one of them away without even glancing at their context. What was the point? I knew who sent him and I completely resented the person. Or did I?

Whatever Malfoy really intended on saying, he could do so to my face.

About a week later, Malfoy's owls had reduced to none and I hadn't seen him, even in class, until he approached me randomly in a secluded corridor. I had half expected, half hoped for him to corner me against the wall and take me right then, but there was another matter to discuss, I could tell.

"What do you want, _Malfoy_?" I spat out, taking time to notice his platinum locks falling into a pair of icey grey eyes.

All he could do was grin, half-heartedly. "Can we meet? To study? I'm not particularly up-to-date in Potions so it would help if my partner could assist me."

"We're in-class partners," I retort, inching furthur away. "Meaning we are only partners while in class."

"Not true," Malfoy objected, as his sneer began to bother me some. "If we're doing a project that requires extra attention outside of class." And at the sight of my eyes widening, he added, "Yes, I knew about it. We aren't all friendless, Weasleby."

"Sod off," I mutter, clutching my textbooks against my chest self-conciously.

"Not before we plan a study session, and yes, this _will _actually consist of studying." He waggled his eyebrows, as though it was supposed to impress me. Just to have you know, it didn't.

"Gross."

"How about eight thirty, tonight? In the library?" He presses on, ignoring my last remark. All I manage to stifle is the worst fake smile I ever imagined. "See you then."

And he leaves me to watch him, listen to the rhythmic clicking of his shoes against hardwood flooring, and perhaps even gape at his masculine walk. There was always something sexy about the way Draco Malfoy walked.

--------------------

"_Doctor_," I start, and laugh as he jumps slightly in his seat, startled. "Have you ever been in love?"

Amherst -- or doctor -- looks up from his notebook, eyes fastening into mine already. I love it how he does that. "Once."

"What happened?"

He sighs, the quill-to-paper sounding instantly. "You know, this is about you ... not me."

"Yes, but it makes this so much easier if I know a little bit about my inquirer." I press on, regardless of the few more sighs emitted from his mouth.

"Fine," He concedes. "She's in Egypt."

"Sex trade?"

"She's studying dragons with ... _Jim_."

"Ooh," He's just fueling my fire now. "Her new boyfriend?"

"She cheated on me with him." I'm surprised at how his voice remains the same, regardless of how his eyes look. Aside from pain, I catch a glimpse of fear, anger. His words are nonchalant, or something along those lines.

"Oh." I stop, wishing I hadn't brought it up in the first place. It's just such an 'oh, wow. Don't want to go there' subject, you know? "I'm sorry."

"No, it's my fault. I spent too much time with my patients and work. She got tired of waiting."

For a minute we remain silent, and he brings the topic up again of Draco and about our meeting later on. I happily, for once, oblige.

--------------------

Well, I showed to the library up at eight thirty ... eighty _thirty-three_, to be exact.

He wasn't there, much to my relief, and I wasn't surprised. Draco Malfoy was always punctual, unless making an impression. I figured, now, that he was trying to make one. And so I waited, for several minutes -- more like ten, or so -- and the bloody Slytherin finally strode through the library doors, eyes set on me. It didn't take long for me to realize he was intoxicated, on some love drug or another, and I became instantly entranced. "What have you downed this time, Malfoy?" I inquire, although unsure of how he will respond.

"Just another pill," He replies without any hesitation, and I'm sure I saw him wink.

There really wasn't any other way to explain my attraction to Draco Malfoy, but at that moment I wanted him. More than you can possibly imagine. I think it was the way his hair actually showed imperfections, falling into his face with ease, or his eyes had lost the malice within them and were, for once, at peace. Draco Malfoy looked like someone I could take advantage of, and I had never been more turned on in my life.

"There's a book we need, but I can't reach it. Over there." I end up spitting out, yet Malfoy takes a moment to respond.

"Where?" And I stand up to lead him several bookshelves from the very back of the room, perfectly secluded. I'm sure he understood exactly where this was going, because a broad sneer was plastered on his handsome features. To be honest, I wanted to rip the smile off his face, but I also had another plan.

"Up there," I point, but it's no use. After I give another nervous glance to the Slytherin, he's pinned me against the wall.

My arms are instantly pulled over my head and pinned tightly against two seperate books as Malfoy's lips attack mine with ferocity. There was no affection or emotion in his kiss, just plain pain and lust. He forced his tongue into my mouth, although I hardly tried to persuade him otherwise. We were sucking, nipping, biting, and whatever else you can do with your mouth on each other's. His defined chest was tight against mine as his hands slid to the waist of my skirt, toying with a button my mother had re-sewn many a time.

Even if I had wanted to stop him, there wouldn't have been a way to do so. Malfoy's right hand had slid to my inner thigh, working its way up slowly and roughly. He casually moved aside my underwear, the rest of my skirt bunched against my waist, as he thrust his fingers deep in me, working hard against my body. I felt controlled and manipulated, but there was no stopping Draco Malfoy.

There was a fire burning between my legs; a fire of lust and a fire of pain. His touch both hurt me and aroused me, I just had to take my pick at which one I would rather feel. I soon chose arousal, because Malfoy wouldn't stop, and my body's attachment to his fingers wouldn't subside. A slight moan escaped my mouth as I collapsed against the bookshelf in ecstasy, but he held me close to his chest and let his lips begin working at my neck. I could have sworn I felt a sharp pain at the right side of my neck, which I found later to be the result of his bite marks.

Draco continued to finger me for several more minutes, before I shuddered, climaxed, and collapsed against his shoulder. My head found solace in his defined chest and broad shoulders, but he soon had me standing on my own feet in a daze. I wanted to smell him again, the smell of passion and mystery. It was both sensual and addicting, that great smell of his. But I soon heard his sarcastic words of hate again, and decided to try and disregard our previous situation.

"See you later, _Weasley_." And as soon as these words were finished, Malfoy had turned and left me in my peace.

--------------------

"Mhmm," He nods, shaking his dark strands out of equally dark eyes.

"Yes?"

"Oh," Amherst looks up, unaware and now embarassed of mumbling to himself as he had done. "I uh... I'll see you tomorrow."

"Doctor," I begin, just after he's stood from his seat and turned to head for the door. "I have to tell you something."

I see one eyebrow shoot up in question, just before he asks me to proceed.

"Draco Malfoy didn't kill Harry Potter."

I believe Amherst's ears have just perked up.

"I did."

After a moment of silence, Amherst stands, tucking his notebook between arm and side. "Well, Miss Weasley," He starts, "I believe we have a much bigger matter to discuss ..._ tomorrow_."

-------------------

**Finished!**

**Sorry this took so long.**

**Reviews are still lovely. **


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